Meet The Parents
by Like-Omg-Like-Seddie
Summary: When Logan is faced with dinner with Camille and her parents, he realizes he might not be the 'one to bring home to mama' he always thought he was. LoganxCamille
1. Chapter 1

I found her sitting poolside, staring into the water. Thinking back now, I wonder what would have happened had I decided not to see who was at the pool that day, decided to sleep in, and decided to go to the movies with the guys. After taking that thought for a ride, I wonder if the reason I didn't do any of those things was really fate or just a coincidence.

She didn't as little as acknowledge me when I sat down next to her. Because of this I suspected she was feeling distant. She would deny it if I ever accused her of it, but I know for a fact her face lights up when I walk into the room; her smile bigger, her eyes wider, her voice higher. I've noticed it for a while now, chosen to ignore it for obvious reasons, but I've always secretly found it flattering, maybe even a little cute.

When I asked what was wrong with her, she looked at me like she didn't realize I was there until that moment. Yup, that's me, always sneaking up on people? I smiled at her, which evidentially calmed her down. I went with asking if she was okay this time, instead of what was wrong. She nodded, but it was totally forced and unbelievable. Her acting coach would have had kittens if she'd seen it. I nodded too though, since I knew from experience she wasn't into people pressing into her business. So, we sat there in silence, the both of us nodding like bobble heads, staring into the water. Then she finally spoke.

"My mom's in town. Dad says she's _dying _to see me." She rolled her eyes when she said this, which confused me greatly. Camille never talked about her mother much, but I'd never met her, so I was assuming she didn't come in town very often. Is it weird that I suspected she'd be exited when her mom came to visit her? She sighed, shutting her eyes and now shaking her head.

"I'm guessing you and mom don't have the best relationship?" She laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh, like I'd told a joke or anything. It was a sad laugh, the kind of laugh you do when you hear something sadly ironic.

"It's not that I don't love her, because I do." I watched her, realizing by her expression she was choosing her words carefully. Obviously, she hadn't talked about her mom in a while. I couldn't help but feel honored that she trusted me enough to tell me something so personal. "It's just ... nothing I ever do is good enough for her. She's the CEO of this really huge law firm back East and she's never forgiven me for becoming an actress, or as she would call it, 'running off to Hollywood with my stupid little pipe dream'." I nodded again, unintentionally, and she started shaking her head again. I'm sure we looked funny, sitting there, seemingly disagreeing with one another but not saying anything.

"When do you see her?" I asked, after deciding there'd been a long enough silence. She sighed again, this time rolling her eyes, then told me her father had made plans for dinner that night. The sound of her voice was so unfamiliar, I knew immediately that there were sides of Camille that I'd never fully knew. Because of the guilt I was feeling for having never asked her about her mother and not being very good at consoling, I went and said something stupid. It wasn't the words themselves that were stupid, it was the fact that I didn't mean it and _still_ said it, like an idiot. "Man ... I wish I could be there with you." So, basically, I lied. This just added to the already piled up guilt I'd been feeling.

"Seriously?" Her face finally lit up the way it usually did when I saw her. The fact that just the thought of my being there for her slightly brought her back to normal made me incapable of saying no. Her eyes soon followed suit, widening like they always did. "Logan, you don't understand how grateful I'd be if you came. I know it seems weird, you know, meeting my mom and having dinner with both my parents and all but ... I know I'll be able to endure the night if I have my best friend by my side."

That's when it really got real. She considered me her best friend. How could I say no to that? Her best friend? And the thing was, I knew she wasn't just saying that either. Camille is an ... odd one. She's the kind of person that some people can only take so much of and she wasn't exactly exceeding in the friend category. Now that Jo was gone, besides the guys and a select few at the Palm Woods, I was really all she had. I couldn't abandon her, especially when she really needed me. Boyfriend or just friend, I had an obligation to be there for her no matter the circumstance. Besides, I knew she'd do the same for me in a heartbeat.

"I'll be there."


	2. Chapter 2

I have a theory. My theory is that a man can be whipped even if he doesn't have a girlfriend. The night I had dinner with Mommy Dearest was full of evidence to support it. As instructed, I wore a white button up, which you better believe Camille took the liberty of tucking in, black pants and a pair of dress shoes I had to wear for my cousin's wedding two years ago. Yes, my feet have been the same size for two years. Get over it.

The ride over there was nothing short of excruciatingly awkward. Camille's dad hasn't exactly forgiven me for 'breaking his little girls heart', although I do find it ironic that no one cared to defend this little boys heart. So, there was of course lots of questions and accusations, he even tried to pullover on Main Street and kick me out of the car. Fortunately for me and my dress shoes, Camille made gave her father an ultimatum; If I didn't come to dinner, than neither did she. It worked effortlessly and although I don't quite condone undermining one's parents, I don't condone walking far distances in formal attire either.

I couldn't help but be impressed by the restaurant Camille's dad chose. It wasn't so fancy that the menu was in French, but it was fancy enough that I couldn't afford the salad. When we were seated, Camille and her dad ordered their drinks. The two of them scanned the menu as I took in the ritsy atmosphere. I assumed it was a restaurant celebrities attended daily, just by looking at the kinds of people who were there. It was one of those awkward moments where you feel like you don't belong; like everyone in the room is staring at you, like you're totally out of your league. Camille obviously didn't share in my anxiety, because she was discussing what appetizers her mom would enjoy with her father like it was something they did all the time. I suddenly felt a wave of loneliness; I thought for sure she would feel the same way I did.

A short, blond woman wearing a deep burgundy dress suit and the highest stilettos I'd seen off the red carpet approached the table with a huge grin on her face. Camille and her dad stood up, both of them kissing her on either cheek. I quickly stood up, realizing she was the woman of the hour. I remembered what Camille had told me on the car ride over in between her father's interrogations: Don't slouch. Use your interview smile. Look her in the eyes. Keep your head up and your feet together. Don't let her know you're intimidated.

"Well, tell Sylvia if she wants us to represent her than she needs to get her act together. We're not running some local, sibling run, bail-out firm! We're a little something she may not be familiar with: Professional! Am I right or am I right? Hold on, Janet. And who are you?" I patiently waited for her to pause so I could make my thoroughly practiced first impression. _Hello, ma'am. My name is Logan Mitchell, I'm a good friend of your daughters. She's told me so much about you; it's an honor to meet you. 36? You don't look a day over 20._

You know that feeling when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you? Well, I was getting that feeling. But that was because everyone's eyes _were_ on me. Camille, her father and her mother were all staring at me, expectantly. I was genuinely confused. Was I doing something wrong? If I hadn't been mistaken, the last thing said was between her and whoever was on the other line on her mother's phone ... wasn't it? Yeah, yeah I'm pretty sure she'd been talking crap about some lady behind her back, then she'd told the lady on the phone to hold on, then she asked who the lady was, then ... Balls. Balls. Balls. Balls. _Balls_. She'd been talking to me.

"I'm sorry, did I miss something? Is this some sort of mute waiter or ...?" Camille's mom asked her and her dad. I glanced at Camille and saw her shut her eyes like she wished she could be anywhere but there. I'm with you, sister.

"Mom, this is my friend Logan. Logan, this is ... Mom." Camille didn't even open her eyes when she spoke. Man, did I have some redeeming to do. I reached out and grabbed her hand, shaking it a little more frantically than necessary, but I couldn't help but be nervous. Thus, breaking one of the most important rules Camille had given me: Not to let her see my intimidation. I tried to say something, but nothing seemed fitting now that I'd made a fool of myself, although shaking her hand like an idiot wasn't exactly working out so well. In fact, she snatched her hand away after at least fifteen seconds of it, then cleared her throat and took a seat. The remainder of the night didn't get any better. A majority of the time she talked about herself. The law firm, her boyfriend, money, her clients, her co-workers, money, her employees, money. It was all so repetitive, I actually zoned out for a while. Until, of course, Camille stepped on my foot with her heels, which hurt so very good and no doubt left a mark on my only dress shoes.

"And once we'd won Johnson vs. Pennsylvania state it was like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders." Camille's mom took a sip of wine and so did her dad. May I just add that besides my foot being stabbed, my existence was completely unacknowledged for a majority of the night. Camille's dad made a sound like he'd just remembered something and put down his glass.

"Sweetheart, why don't you tell your mother about the part you landed!" Her dad sounded so enthusiastic about it, but Camille didn't look very thrilled. She dropped her fork and stared down at her chicken alfredo as if it were speaking to her.

"Um ... that's okay. It's nothing big-"

"Wait, you got a part? When did this happen?" I asked, completely oblivious that I'd A) Spoken out of turn and B) Camille really didn't want to talk about it. She cleared her throat, wiping her hands on her napkin although they weren't dirty.

"Couple weeks ago..." She murmured. If I wasn't so stupid, I probably would have gotten the hint, what with her eyes wide and her words behind clenched teeth. But I was feeling idiotic that night, obviously, so I idiotically missed it.

"Well, what was the role? What type of media was it? Is it a movie? Are there any other celebrities you get to work with?" If only there was a janitor there to mop up the question vomit I was spewing everywhere. Hey, horrible situations call for horrible metaphors. Camille threw her napkin on top of her food, as if she was completely done, then looked at me with a face that looked angry. Except her eyes. In her eyes I saw hurt and almost ... betrayal.

"It's not a movie, actually, it's a commercial." Her words came out quiet, yet firm, like she wasn't quite ashamed but still not comfortable with sharing. On top of that, she didn't even try to answer any of my other stupid questions. Cut me a little bit of slack here, though. I was really exited for her! I guess I'm just one of those freaks who pukes when their exited. It went dead silent when her mother asked what kind of commercial. I silently prayed that it wasn't something pathetic like goldfish or Hot Pockets. I heard clearly the sound of Camille swallowing just before she answered her mother's question.

"Skin care. Neutrogena." Hmm. Not bad. Or so I thought. Her mom? Not so much. The woman actually laughed, like seriously, threw her head back and laughed. It was so loud that people in the restaurant stopped what they were doing just to stare at her, the odd woman sitting with a man and two kids, laughing to her heart's content. When she was finished, which took her a while, she wiped the tears from her eyes and sighed.

"Gosh, honey. Might as well just go into the music business! Look Camille, you're obviously not cut out for this acting business, whereas in the music industry, you don't even need to have any talent!" Sure, I was offended. Not offended enough to say anything just yet. It wasn't about me anyway. Camille was staring down at her hands in her lap and it was only a matter of time before the tears started to fall. I had suspected that her mother would just stop, since her dad scolded her for being so harsh, but she instead took the liberty of continuing. "I mean, look at that poor, deluded, boy band member you dated a while ago. The glitz and glam of Hollywood had him convinced that him and his little friends actually had talent!" Alright. Now I was more than offended.

"Uh, Tracy? Logan is the poor, deluded boy band member you're referring to." Camille's dad said, surprisingly sounding defensive. Not as surprising as Camille's idly sitting there whiles her mother completely disrespected me.

"Ah, well then you're the culprit?" She said, stabbing me with her stare. If I looked intimidated before, I don't even want to know what I looked like then. "It's you, you and you're little boy band, who've been encouraging my baby to continue with her little pipe dream. Do you even understand the potential she has? And yet, here she stays, wasting her best years for school memorizing useless words and having romantic relations with-"

"Whoa, alright. I'm just going to stop you there," I said, holding out my hands in halt. She was obviously having a fit and I wasn't about to tolerate her anymore. I got a look from Camille telling me to back down, but I was so done with backing down. It was about time somebody stood up to this darned woman. "First of all, I don't have to encourage Camille to go after her dream. Her relentless determination and endurance take care of that one. Second, I don't even think Camille understands how much potential she has. But it's because of that, that I know she will go further than she could ever imagine in life. And third, we're not a _little_ boy band, we're Big Time Rush, and we don't need the glitz and glam of Hollywood to realize how great we are." Okay, so that last part might not have been necessary, but I wasn't going to go down without a fight. plus, what did I have to lose? Everyone's eyes were on me again, but this time I made it happen, and I was glad I did. Camille's mom looked like she wanted to jump across the table and rip me limb from limb. Obviously, she hadn't been spoken to like that much. "Oh, yeah. And I've got a sneaking suspicion that weight is not the only thing being lifted from your body."

"Camille? Are you going to let this boy talk to your mother like that?" She didn't break our gaze, her and I'd been making eye contact since I interrupted her. Then Camille said something I didn't think she would say even if a psychic told me she would.

"Yeah, mom. I am. Not only am I going to let him talk to you like that, but I'm going to agree with him." Her mother's mouth dropped open and she looked at Camille, astonished. I wanted to laugh, I was so happy for her. Camille's dad sat there sipping on his wine, enjoying the show like it was freaking' dinner theater.

"Excuse me? You will not talk to me like that, young lady! I suggest you show some respect or-"

"Or what? You'll move back East and completely remove yourself from my life? Too late, you've already done that." Her mother opened her mouth, then closed it, like she was going to say something but decided against it. Camille was standing up now, and breathing heavily. I knew then that she'd been harboring those feelings for a long time. What more of a punishment could I have? What's worse than never having the approval let alone support of your own mother?" The tension in the room was extremely thick. It was dead silent; everyone in that section of the restaurant had been watching us. The only sound I could hear was the faint clattering of dishes in the kitchen and the sound of Camille's breath. Camille shook her head and I saw her eyes water. I stood up and placed my hand on the small of her back, and then we left the restaurant. Her dad didn't yell at us to come back or offer to drive us home like I thought he would. He just sat there at the tension filled table, laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

My arm around her waist. Her head on my shoulder. Her arms crossed to keep warm. We walked like this in silence until we got home. Inside the lobby, In front of the elevator, I offered to take her to her apartment. She nodded, and we got into the elevator. Neither of us spoke, and we weren't touching anymore. We stood at either side of the elevator, staring at the doors, begging them to open. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a lot of tension. I'd had my hand on her back for almost an hour, her dress was short ... I was lonely ... don't judge me. I have needs, okay?

"I'll never forget about this night, Logan," she murmured, still hugging herself. I wished I'd had a jacket to wrap around her and bring her the warmth I'd failed to bring her on my own.

"Yeah? Me neither." We left the elevator when we reached her floor and fell into step with each other as we walked down the hallway. When we approached her door, she stood in front of it and stared. No pulling out of the key, no saying goodbye. I assumed I needed to rush the process along. "Well ... here we are." That didn't seem to do much at first. She stayed standing there, but then looked at the ground. Then she pulled out her key, placing it in the hole and turning it. Just before opening her door, she turned to me with water in her eyes.

"Do you want to come inside?" is what she _asked_, but what I got from it was "Will you please come inside?" So I nodded, and we went into her apartment. I had to admit, it'd been a while. Things were still the same, still looked the same, still smelled the same. I actually hadn't been inside since we were officially dating. Being in there made the many memories come flooding back. Ahh, memories of when you were once happy. Those are always fun. I seriously felt like a person with Alzheimer's slowly gaining my memory back. Certain objects in the apartment gave me flashbacks of times we'd had that were affiliated with it. I ran my fingers across her kitchen counter; I remember lifting her up and placing her on the counter, kissing her neck while she giggled. The couch, where I told her I 'thought I loved her' and she told me she 'thought I was adorable'. Her bathroom; never forget the time we made the Tooth Brush song, the time we stayed up all night watching a Degrassi Junior High marathon. I walked to her room, guessing she'd be in there, and I was right. She was sitting square in the middle of her bed, still wearing her dress but now legitimately crying. When she turned to look at me, I could see her make up running. I went into her bathroom and put a washcloth under hot water, then walked back into her room and climbed onto the bed in front of her. I wiped her wet face while she sniffled and groaned. When she was done and all that was left was one last sniffle, she took the washcloth from me and blew her nose. She looked up at me and surprisingly, laughed. "I can't believe you're seeing me without make up on."

I laughed too, but mine was with disbelief. I scooted closer to her so we were face to face, her legs crisscrossed, me on my knees. Then, despite how irrational and stupid an idea it probably was, I kissed her on her forehead. It was a long kiss, longer than I'd even intended it to be. "You're absolutely beautiful," I whispered in her ear. Boy, I am a stud, aren't I? She shut her eyes and a small smile appeared on her face. She put her hand on my neck and fidgeted with my collar, our foreheads now pressed together. I understand that probably isn't the position two people who claim to be 'just friends' should be in for a number of reasons, but it was like everything was happening against my volition. I had no control, and thank God almighty that I didn't.

It didn't take long for our lips to connect. They were like magnets; they couldn't just be so close to each other without making contact. And hey, it wasn't like they weren't familiar with each other. So, let's call it a force of habit. Yeah, let's go with that. The kiss became more passionate the longer it lasted. Camille slowly lied back onto her bed and before I knew what was going on, I was on top of her. She dug her fingers onto my back and I ran my fingers through her hair. The weird thing was, we were totally not like that. Of course, we were both still ... children. And neither of us really had much experience besides each other. And sure, we'd made out a few times, and every once in a while it was on her bed, but never like this. Never with me on top of her, never with her hands on my back, never with my fingers in her hair, never with the both of us breathing heavily and moaning every chance had we got. We adjusted, and suddenly Camille was on top of me. I grinned, not complaining at all. But she didn't try to kiss me.

"I'm sorry my mom is such a demon." I furrowed my brow, wondering why of all times she was trying to apologize on behalf of her crazed mother now.

"It's fine," I said, kissing her again. She stopped though, and moved from on top of me to next to me.

"No, Logan, I'm serious." I sighed, but I didn't say anything because knew she was obviously unstable after such an emotional night. "What she said was totally ... I just don't want you to think I told her any of those things she said." I turned on my side so I was looking at her. I'd tried to push the thought away, but I couldn't help wonder how her mother even knew about me if Camille hadn't told her. She turned to look at me too, and I couldn't look her in the eye. "Logan ... I want you to know that you're one of the most talented people I know. Not because you're the best singer or dance or whatever. But because you can sing, dance, and save someone's life all in one day. You really are one of a kind. You're an inspiration, Logan. And... I kind of feel like you don't get that enough."

"Can't say I do..." I'll admit my voice cracked when I said this. I was a little dumbfounded actually. People have told me I'm smart before, told me I'm okay at performing. But that I'm inspirational? Got to say that's a first. She placed her hand on my neck, stroking my cheek with her thumb. Her lips spread into a smug smile. I smiled back at her, smiled at the girl who I'd never stopped loving, and the girl I'd love until my heart stopped beating.


End file.
